Portrait of A German Officer
by ValorTheory
Summary: "Jaeger?" he whispered to himself in disbelief. The kid looked right at home, waving kindly to drunken strangers and meandering his way to the bar. Towards Levi. That was when those big green eyes landed on him: the short, sleep-deprived, coarse artist with a cruddy sense of humor. Levi was, apparently, in 'homosexual kindergarten.' Historical AU. Levi/Eren.


_**Important Note:**_ _This is very loosely based off of the life of Madsen Hartley, a painter/writer of the early 20th century. I obviously took some liberties with the details (as historical fiction and fanfiction do), but the basic story is the same. Look up "Portrait of A German Officer." It's a fascinating piece with an intriguing background._

 _Thanks._

 _..._

"Ah. Here's a favorite of mine. _Portrait of A German Officer._ "

Armin smiled down at the teens circling around him. As a curator of the museum, he wasn't in charge of tours, but every once in a while he indulged himself. He liked teaching people about the art - especially kids.

A girl raised her hand. "Why's it your favorite? It doesn't look all that special."

Armin chuckled. "No. It doesn't. At least, not right off the bat. But before I tell you, does anyone notice anything in particular?"

A different girl - Sasha, her backpack read - tilted her head. "It's...awfully sad."

Armin admired the bold colors of the painting and smiled softly. "Good intuition. It is. It's one of the saddest paintings I know of."

...

Erwin smirked and stepped away from the desk. Levi scrutinized it for a moment before he whirled around. "What the fuck am I looking at?"

The blonde chuckled and put out his cigarette in the ash tray. "My newest lithograph. I thought that was the whole point of you coming here. Or did you forget?"

Levi somehow resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "So you do a cityscape and attach the buildings with these bridge...things. What's that shit supposed to mean? What's the point?"

Any other artist might have taken offense, but Erwin understood Levi's rather harsh style of critique. In many ways, it was actually quite amusing. They continued chatting for a while before Levi finally gave in and _did_ roll his eyes. He set down the lithograph. "Stick to sculpture, Erwin. You're not half bad at that. I don't get this shit."

Ewrin shrugged. "We'll see what the boys think of it. Speaking of which, I thought I should let you know that my cousin will join us tonight."

Levi pulled on his jacket. "Cousin? You've never mentioned any family before."

"Well, he's technically my first cousin, twice removed. I think he's about nineteen now. He wanted to spend some time in Paris before his leave ends. He lives in Berlin actually, makes a modest income as a soldier."

Levi grunted, unimpressed, pushing the front door open. "So? What's the shit stain's name?"

The two men climbed into Erwin's automobile, taking off towards downtown Paris. The wheels bumped and it was hard to hear over the wind. Levi almost didn't catch it when the blonde replied, "Eren."

...

A boy named Connie frowned at the girl. "Okay, Mr. Arlert. I'm not exactly the smartest kid in class. But I know that usually when someone paints with bright colors, it's not supposed to be sad. It almost looks like he's kinda celebrating the German military and all the uniforms and whatever. I don't get how it's supposed to be sad."

Armin smiled at him. "Yeah. I thought so too at first. Maybe 'sad' isn't quite the right word. 'Grieving' might be better. But it's also scathing. It's resentful and hurt and bitter. Sasha, was it? Do you see that anger? Is it helpless?"

After a moment, she nodded. Connie squinted, and maybe he began to see a flicker of it. A boy behind him raised his hand.

"Um, what does that number mean?"

"Oh. Twenty-four? It's someone's age."

...

Paris was a lot of different things for Levi. After a failed exhibition in New York, it was a fresh start. Here he was in the new spring of 1910 at the heart of the artistic world. There was inspiration around every corner, under every bridge, in every bite of food... It was a painter's heaven.

That was how he'd come to be here, sitting at the usual table in Restaurant Thomas. The avant-garde group he'd attached himself to frequented the place almost nightly. They swapped ideas, discussed their art, and just ate good meals.

Paris was a lot of things.

But, on this particular night, shaking the hand of Erwin's cousin, Levi remembered the _other_ thing Paris was to him. An exploration. The city had a way of ushering men like him to the perfect tight corners where no one asked too many questions. Where men tossed smiles that were signed, _"My place or yours?"_ Those smiles were invitations Levi now felt free to accept on several occasions.

Eren Jaeger reminded him of that. With his sleek tanned skin, expressive green eyes, strong shoulders, and handsome smile, it was hard not to remember. Still, he kept his face schooled as always while Erwin went around naming everyone off for the young officer. He brushed off those thoughts easily.

They dined in peace, and while Eren had a thick accent, his English was surprisingly impeccable. "So, Mr. Hartley," Eren addressed him.

"Just Levi is fine."

The brunet smirked. "Okay, Levi then. Erwin's told me a bit about you. You were born in America, right?" Levi nodded. "And you had an exhibition in New York City?" Another nod. "What's it like there? I've seen pictures, and it's so different from Berlin! The architecture is similar though, don't you think? It seems like Germans and Americans share a lot in common." His eyes widened as he spoke excitedly, leaning his elbows on the table. Levi found he didn't mind enough to tell him to sit up straight.

"I didn't know you had an interest in architecture," remarked Levi, leveling the boy with a cool gaze.

He scratched at the nape of his neck sheepishly. "Yes, well. After I've finished my service in a few years, I plan on becoming an architect. It's what I was going to do originally, but my father left and my mother was struggling to make ends meet. Couldn't afford school, and I didn't especially have a talent for much else, so the military was the best option."

"You can't do any other shit? No skill for anything?"

Eren chuckled. "I guess I can cook a decent meal."

"You're pathetic."

"You're funny." Eren grinned.

Levi looked up from his tea at that. "Well," he hummed. "That's a first. Not bad."

Eren and Levi chatted the night away separate from the rest of the group. The food was good, and Eren even managed to pull out a snicker from the artist.

...

"Who's age is it?"

Armin put a hand to his chin. "Well, if I tell you who's age it is, I have to go and tell the whole story. Do you want that, or do you want to see the rest of the museum?" The class of seniors voted. A majority wanted the story. The blonde curator looked up at the teacher. "Is that alright with you, Mr. Bodt?"

The taller, freckled man pretended to mull it over before he gave the go-ahead.

...

Almost two weeks later found Levi walking the streets of Paris. Nightfall approached, and he entered a less-than-pristine-looking bar at exactly nine o'clock. Brushing by the half-filled tables and half-drunk patrons, he went straight to the back room with a nod to the bartender.

Levi opened a rickety wooden door, revealing a dark staircase lit up at the bottom. He heard voices echoing up to wrap around his shoulders and tug him down. He straightened his shirt collar.

Down below was an entirely different scene. There was another bar with men of all shapes and sizes leaning against the oak counter. Smoke hung in the air. Levi took a quick glance around the room, taking in the sight of young men seated comfortably in each others' laps and many downing alcohol. A couple wore make-up. There was jeering, singing, and certain _other_ noises that only came from the darkest corners and crevices.

It wasn't anything spectacular, but it was enough for Levi.

He passed the next two hours or so sipping beer, eyeing the room. He received at least four offers, but no one really caught his eye. At least, not until 11:48. That was when Levi turned to the stairs as the sound of a new set of footsteps descended. He saw the heavy boots first, then the cargo pants and snug white shirt.

"Jaeger?" he whispered to himself in disbelief. The kid looked right at home, waving kindly to drunken strangers and meandering his way to the bar. Towards Levi. "Shit." That was when those big green eyes landed on him: the short, sleep-deprived, coarse artist with a cruddy sense of humor.

"Mr. Levi?"

His eye twitched. "I thought I told you just to call me Levi, dumbass."

Eren ignored him. "What are you doing here?" He took the bar stool next to the painter, leaning forwards on his elbows again.

Levi scowled. "What the fuck do you think? Do you always ask stupid questions or am I just special?" So maybe he was feeling a bit defensive.

Eren blushed and coughed. An awkward pause floated while the bartender got the soldier his drink. "So... you too, huh? Small world."

Having recovered a little from the shock of seeing him here, Levi sighed. "I suppose. I take it this isn't your first time in a shithole like this?"

The brunet chuckled. "Oh, this is nothing. You should see what guys get up to in Berlin. This is like...oh, what's the word? Kindergarten? Yes. This is like homosexual kindergarten."

He couldn't help it. Levi let out a bark of laughter. "I don't think I've ever heard it called that. Original. Maybe that'll be the title of my next piece."

"That'd be something."

"Does Erwin know you come here?"

"Does he know _you_ come here?"

"Fair point."

They chatted the time away once more until they left the bar together with a pleasant buzz. Eren said he wasn't expected back at Erwin's until tomorrow, so they walked off for Levi's studio. They planned to eat a snack, talk some more, get some sleep. Just relax.

The studio was meticulously clean, with even the small office space dedicated to his art neat and tidy. Eren drank it all in. "I like it," he announced.

Levi locked the door behind him. "Well, I'm glad because I don't give a shit about what you like."

And they stood in the entry way together for perhaps two minutes. They simply stared in silence until something almost furious sparked in Eren's eyes. The next thing Levi knew, there were large hands at his hips and Eren's breath at his lips.

"Can I?" he whispered.

This hadn't been in the agenda for the night, but Levi answered by yanking him down to close the gap. _'Fuck it,'_ he thought. The kisses, despite their hasty beginning, were tentative and languid. Somehow, they found themselves on Levi's bed, and all that shyness recoiled violently.

Levi was twenty-nine years old and he'd never experienced anything like it. He'd never encountered anything like Eren Jaeger. And he let himself get lost in the feeling of brown locks between his fingers, of a tanned chest against his own, of emerald eyes hovering above him in the night.

...

Armin paused. "Any other new observations before I move on?"

A girl with blonde hair and a warm demeanor looked up. She looked rather short standing next to the tall girl with freckles. "I have a question. If Hartley was in Paris at that time, and he was friends with Erwin Smith, does that mean he knew Annie Stein?"

"Ah, yes. I was just getting to that."

...

Annie Stein was, in one word, formidable. She'd spent years collecting art, and now often had these eccentric men trampling all over her house. She was the queen. Now, they all gathered as she assessed Erwin's lithograph.

She hummed for a moment. "Levi's right. This is too shallow for you, and the perspective could be steeper, more bold. Go sculpt something better."

"You sure don't mince words, Annie," Erwin laughed.

"Words are not for mincing."

At the back of the room, Eren gently nudged Levi's shoulder. "So this is really her? Wow. She must know every artist in town."

Levi looked at him. "She doesn't. Just the ones worth a shit. We all come here once or twice a week. She's a bitch, but she knows what she's talking about."

"I'm glad I can be part of the circle."

Levi nodded at him. When they bid Annie farewell, it was well past midnight. Eren and Levi split from the group and wandered under a bridge. They stood close as they watched the river run past them, but not quite touching.

"I, um, saw one of your paintings before I left yesterday. I know it wasn't finished, but I really liked it."

Levi stared at him for a moment. His hair shifting slightly in the breeze, he forced Levi to remember the night previous, and how afterwards they slept far too close to one another for what appeared to be a one-night-stand. "If you're trying to flirt with me," he finally said, "You'll have to do better than that."

A blush spread across Eren's cheeks. He averted his gaze. "You don't mince words either, Levi."

"Should I?"

The brunet shook his head. "No. Of course not. I like that about you."

Eren still blushed. Levi stepped around to face him. "What's got you so flustered? I believe we've established that Paris is 'homosexual kindergarten,' and you've graduated at least primary school."

That got him to laugh, loud and boisterous. Seemingly without thinking, the boy leaned in to give Levi a chaste kiss. He was still smiling when he pulled away. "Sorry. I don't know exactly. I think I like you more than I should, all things considered. It's a little...scary."

"I know the feeling," Levi relented.

They went back to Levi's studio. Two hours later, Eren was absent-mindedly tracing patterns on Levi's stomach. "So, your mother was actually French."

With a hum of affirmation, Levi let his steel eyes rest on Eren and his messy hair and slightly swollen lips. "But she died when I was very young. My siblings, Farlan and Isabel, died three years before she did. After that, my father and I grew distant, and he sent me to live with my aunt until he remarried. We reunited in Cleveland, but I was underwhelmed by the entire affair to say the least. I tried to go to art school in New York, but I was dirt poor and couldn't afford shit. I finally had an exhibition go up, but I didn't sell many paintings. I scraped what I had together for my travel expenses to get here. Things have picked up since then."

Levi almost jolted when he felt Eren's fingers weaving with his. "I'm sorry about your mother and siblings." The artist relaxed.

"It's alright. At least my father was a little less shitty than yours."

Eren pressed a kiss to his knuckles and hummed. "It's late," he said. He wrapped an arm around Levi's waist and shortly fell asleep.

Levi wondered if his chest was supposed to burn slowly like it did. If his heart was supposed to lurch.

...

"So they would just drink wine at her place and talk about art? All of these famous people?"

Armin nodded at Ymir. "Yes. She would eventually become acquainted with Picasso, Hemingway, and even Fitzgerald. She was a woman of importance in the art world."

Marco was good friends with Armin, and he squinted at the painting over the heads of his students. "He's mocking the grandeur of war, right Mr. Arlert?"

"Yes."

...

"Happy New Year," Levi muttered, leaning against Eren's chest. He sat with the younger man on his balcony, and they watched the fireworks burst above. Two month before, Levi had several works on display at the Armory Show, thanks to Annie. Eren had taken to drawing up ideas for buildings in his off time, further integrating himself into the art group.

Following their initial hookups, it didn't take long for the two men to fall into an easy rhythm. They spent night after night together, drinking in the magic of France, and assaulting Levi's sheets. But increasingly over the past year, there were more moments like this. Hours at a time where they were simply easy with one another.

Levi almost dared to call themselves a couple.

It was 1911. Eren would have to return to Berlin next year. Levi leaned his head back against the brunet, feeling him breathe.

"I love you."

Levi didn't tense. It should have been stunning and awkward - that's what he expected. They didn't often discuss their emotional standings with each other. It wasn't awkward though. It was just...overdue. He was surprised by how tranquil he was in that moment.

So Levi turned around to face him, half-straddling his hips. He stared at those emerald green eyes a long time before he cupped Eren's cheek and kissed him. "Not bad," he murmured. "Yeah. I think that's right."

The fireworks continued to go off. The energy of the city was buzzing around them, but they were enclosed in their own private bubble of effortless intimacy.

Eventually, Eren pulled away and buried his head into Levi's shoulder. "Come with me," he said, accent prominent as always. "To Berlin. There's great art there, and I have an apartment arranged already. There's enough room for you to paint."

Levi breather in his scent. "Are you saying I need to graduate from homosexual kindergarten?"

He laughed. "Yes. Exactly."

"Berlin, huh? I don't speak a micro-shit of German."

"I don't speak French, yet here I am. I'll help you like you helped me."

"Okay. Yeah. I'll go to Berlin with you."

...

"So he just up and left?" Connie frowned. "But he was in Paris with Annie Stein, Erwin Smith... Hell, he was around some of the greatest artist of the time."

Armin brushed some of his hair behind his ear. "True, but don't forget that Germany was undergoing its own artistic mini-revolution. German art probably influenced Hartley more than anything his friends in France did. See, this is when German Expressionism came about. Art from this period is especially fascinating. There's an underlying tension to most of it - like they knew war was just around the corner."

...

The first thing Eren did upon their arrival in Berlin was drag Levi to one of their 'special' bars. He felt like he had to prove that Paris was, in fact, homosexual kindergarten. Levi didn't protest too much.

Eren was right. The men (and several boys) here did not even pretend to be discreet. They drank more loudly, kissed more loudly, and performed other _actions_ much more loudly. And it wasn't that they yelled or hollered. They were just so...open about everything they did it was deafening. It was like this was totally acceptable. For a moment he felt like he could waltz outside with Eren's hand in his. If he'd thought Paris was liberating, Levi didn't know what to call Berlin and its underbelly.

He lapsed into what he dared to call domestic bliss with his soldier. The days were calm and the nights seared his skin, only for gentle hands to smooth him out all over again. For two years, Levi painted, absorbing the new styles he discovered enthusiastically. Eren worked, and occasionally drew up more architecture. They ate meals together, drank together, sometimes argued. All in all, Levi was...happy. He was content in a way he'd never been before. He wasn't just waiting for everything to fall out underneath him again.

Levi actually left two months after Eren, so as not to arouse suspicion. Something told him Erwin was aware anyways. The friends frequently exchanged letters. He even wrote once or twice to Annie, saying, "There is an interesting source of material here – numbers and shapes and colors that make one wonder and admire. It is essentially a mural, this German way of living – big lines and large masses . . . always a sense of pageantry of living. I like it." He was reminded of homosexual secondary school. Over the weeks however, those letters to Erwin mentioned Austria-Hungary and the alliances more and more.

"You're worried." Eren stood behind him while he sat at his easel. He'd just come home from work and slipped out of his uniform.

"Maybe." Levi finished the last brushstroke. Eren had been right - the art he found in Germany did a great deal to influence his painting. He used bolder colors, harsher strokes. He felt the apprehension in the air. He cleaned his brush and set it in its place. "Yes."

"It'll be fine."

Levi scowled at him. "Don't make promises you can't keep."

Those green eyes were immediately filled with remorse. "Sorry. You're right. I just...I don't want you to worry."

The artist softened. "That's not up to you." He sighed and took Eren's hand, bringing it up to his lips softly. "You little shit." Eren smiled at him.

A month later, the newspapers ruptured. War struck the headlines. Austria-Hungary, the Black Hand...it was a mess. As Levi walked through the streets to buy food for dinner, it seemed as though all of Berlin was trembling. Some of it with excitement and anticipation, some of it with fear. War wasn't truly a reality yet.

When he returned to the apartment, Eren was there. Eren was there much earlier than he should have been. Levi set down the groceries and sat next to him on the couch. Eren cursed quietly.

"Where are they sending you?" Levi asked, hoping his voice didn't tremble.

"...The front lines."

For the first time in nearly a decade, Levi felt tears prick behind his eyes. He held them back. Eren squeezed his hand. It wasn't enough.

...

"Did Hartley leave Europe? Because of the war?"

...

They made love. They made love with a passion they never had before and it hurt Levi so badly. But Eren was above him, with him, inside him, and that made the hurt taste sweet. It went all through the night. Dinner was forgotten along with sleep.

Levi wrapped his arms around Eren, hooked his ankles together around his waist like he could anchor him there to the bed. The two of them could just stay in that bed forever with moonlight streaming through the window. They kissed and whispered and held one another through the hours. Eren held him so tightly he was sure he'd sport bruises.

When they were spent and tired, Levi ran his fingers through those brown locks. He knew they'd be cut soon. Eren curled up to him.

"I think I'm scared," he said finally.

And Levi didn't know what to say to that. He didn't know how to make it better. So he pulled him closer and waited until he fell asleep.

...

Connie's eyes flew wide open. "Wait. He was gay? I thought he was just friends with this Jaeger guy."

Armin shrugged. "Some historians would disagree with me. But based off of his letters, paintings, and memoir, many believe that is the case. None of the records explicitly state so...but in my line of work you learn to read between the lines."

"Huh." Connie frowned. "Oh. Then that means..." His voice got lower.

Armin nodded. "Yes."

...

Their apartment had been disturbingly empty for the past month. Levi'd gotten three letters from Eren so far, assuring him he was okay. The latest one came in four days ago, talking about how appalling Levi would have found the camp. It was apparently filthy.

Levi was sipping his tea, trying not to think about how no one was bustling in the kitchen behind him or pressed up against his side with a book.

There was a knock at the door.

When he opened it, he found a girl with a red scarf on the other side. She looked at him briefly before her eyes were downcast once more. She tugged at the scarf and seemed to steel herself.

"Are you Levi Hartley?" she asked.

He nodded, a strange knot winding itself up in his chest.

"My name is Mikasa. I'm Eren's sister - adopted." It was then that he noticed her eyes were red-rimmed, that her cheeks were flushed and that there were wet spots on her scarf. Breathing was suddenly impossible. His jaw clenched. "Yesterday..." She took a quivering breath. "Yesterday a man came to our house. H-he handed Carla a piece of paper, and he said he was terribly sorry."

 _'No. No, shut up. Shut up right now.'_

Her breath hitched. She held her hand out to him, and placed an iron crossed in his palm. She forcibly curled his fingers around it. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. Levi just stared. "When Eren...when he told me about you, because you were going to be roommates, he said you were a friend he'd met in Paris. I believed him at first. But every time he came to visit or sent me a letter, I started to doubt that, because I'm his sister, and I can read him. And he never told me, but I _knew_. So, I think you should have this at the very least. He was happy. With you."

"He..." But Levi couldn't finish the sentence. Couldn't even finish his thought.

Mikasa left without another word. Levi sank down into his bed – _their_ bed. He stared down at the metal in his hand, felt the sheets and the creak of the mattress where they'd spent countless hours. He ran his thumb over the metal, eyes still wide with shock.

Levi sobbed.

...

The blonde girl, Historia, covered her mouth with her hand. "That...That's just awful."

Armin pointed to the portrait once more. "If you look here, this represents..."

...

Black here, the iron cross Eren had been _awarded_ for his brave service. Twenty four, for the years he'd lived. Not enough. E. J., on that bottom corner, so everyone would know that this was Eren Jaeger. This was the man he loved. The red the green the yellow. He slapped them onto the canvas because Levi was _angry._

He took back what he said to Annie. Fuck the pageantry. Fuck the big lines and large masses and bright colors and outlandish living. Fuck the military and the war because that shit wasn't _romantic;_ it wasn't _inspiring._ It was bloody and awful and it took Eren's smile away from him. It forced him to sleep in a bed colder than it should be.

He stared blankly at the piece when he was done. His heart wrenched. His brows furrowed. He sighed. He went on a walk.

The war escalated.

It was another four months before he finally packed his bags. Lady Liberty was unwelcoming. He tried not to think about the empty apartment sitting in Berlin. He tried not to think about the iron cross in his pocket.

The next year he was in Bermuda, then Santa Fe, then back to New York. 1921 rolled around and he was in Paris once more, sitting at the usual table alone in Restaurant Thomas. He could swear he heard the echo of Erwin's snickering. He moved back to Berlin. He walked by the apartment building once, saw a little girl sitting at their window, and then left for Italy.

In 1935 he was back in the states, knee-deep in the Great Depression. He participated in the Works Project Administration, but couldn't pay for storage. Levi's own, personal, depression tugged at him harder that it usually did. It knocked him down.

On his fifty-eighth birthday, he burned one hundred canvases.

Levi wandered the world, lost and alone. Sometimes, he felt the ghost of a palm slide between his before he shook himself away from it violently.

September 2nd: Levi Hartley, age sixty-six, died in a town no more than thirty miles from his birthplace. His only company was the attending nurse.

...

"Hey, Levi."

"What is it?"

"They've been there for a while. They've been talking about your painting for a while."

"I suppose. I don't see why. There's plenty of sad, shitty art in this place."

"I like how you brought out my eyes."

"It's not like it's hard. They stand out plenty on their own."

Eren smiled at him, dressed crisply in his uniform. The iron cross was pinned to his chest. They joined hands. If there was one thing Levi was grateful for about being dead, it was that at least he held the appearance of his youth.

Armin finished talking, announcing that it was time to move on. As the group wandered over to the Cubism section, the curator looked over his shoulder. For just a moment, he thought he saw two men standing together in front of the portrait.

...

 _Author's Note: This was a painting I studied in class at some point and was inspired by, so that's where this came from. Doing my research on Mardsen Hartley, I think he actually looked a little bit like Levi. I have no idea what Karl Von Freyburg (the actual name of his disputed friend/lover) looked like. Anyways, I like to draw from history. That's pretty much it. I hope you enjoyed it._

 _Thanks for reading,_

 _ValorTheory_


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